


Surviving

by celeste9



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Female Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3198563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha and Melinda share a quiet moment before a funeral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surviving

**Author's Note:**

  * For [igrockspock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrockspock/gifts).



> For igrockspock in Fandom Stocking. Set post Avengers and pre-Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Hey,” Melinda says as she sits down beside Natasha on a bench in the middle of Central Park.

It’s sunny and warm and the sky is blue, birds are chirping and the park is filled with people going about their normal lives. Natasha thought maybe this would help her feel normal, sitting here, like normal people do, but it doesn’t. She’s still thinking about Loki, and the swatches of New York that are in ruins, and aliens and gods and magic.

She’s still thinking about Clint. She’s still thinking about Coulson.

“Hey,” Natasha says.

“Funny,” Melinda says, watching a couple walk their dog past the bench. “You’d never guess the city was home to an alien invasion only a few days ago.”

“People have to cope somehow.”

“Is that what you’re doing?”

Natasha takes care to avoid Melinda’s too shrewd gaze. “Not my first time dealing with weird shit.”

“How’s Barton?”

Natasha flinches, which she guesses was Melinda’s aim all along. “Surviving.”

Because that’s just what they do. They survive.

“I’m glad he has the chance. At least someone does,” Melinda says, making Natasha look at her sideways. The simple words reveal a lot more than they would seem to.

Must be the funeral.

That’s why Natasha is here, really. They’re going to bury Coulson in an hour - or what will have to pass as Coulson, considering Fury wouldn’t release his body for security reasons.

Natasha had her doubts when she heard that. So had Clint, until they saw it. Him. The body.

But Natasha prefers not to think about that.

Instead she sits here on a bench in Central Park and tries to pretend that she’s normal. She tries to pretend that her best friend isn’t under constant surveillance and being analyzed by every shrink S.H.I.E.L.D. has on its payroll after an alien god took over his mind, and she tries to pretend that one of the few people in this world who ever actually gave a damn about her isn’t lying on a slab in some dark corner of S.H.I.E.L.D.

It isn’t working very well. Go figure.

“How are you, Melinda?” Natasha asks in a manner that can be described only as awkward. It’s awkward. Natasha doesn’t know how to do this, how to share, how to be open, how to show that she cares. Because she does, she cares a lot.

It’s different with Clint. Natasha feels as though Clint truly knows her, knows her as well as she knows herself, and that used to be frightening. It doesn’t scare her anymore.

But Melinda… Melinda May is another one of those few people who gives a damn about Natasha. So why can’t she figure out how to repay the sentiment?

“A manufactured stand-in for the dead body of my closest friend is going in the ground in an hour,” Melinda says. “How do you think I am?”

Natasha looks down at her hands. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

“Fucking Prague.”

Prague. That’s where Melinda was when it all went down. By the time she was able to get to New York Coulson was already dead and Loki was already in irons. Natasha can only begin to imagine the feelings of helplessness, of impotence, that Melinda must have.

Natasha figures it must be something like how she had felt when Clint was taken by Loki, only she had been able to do something about that in the end. Melinda never got the chance.

“I know we have to restrict what we say at the funeral,” Natasha says, and she can feel Melinda watching her. “My favorite memory of Coulson isn’t something that would be Fury-approved. But maybe you’d like to hear it now?”

Melinda nods, dark eyes curious.

“I hadn’t been working for S.H.I.E.L.D. long,” Natasha begins, the memory still clear and bright in her mind. “No one much trusted me. I wasn’t allowed to run solo missions; it was generally Clint and me, and a handler. Sometimes Coulson, sometimes not. This time, no Coulson. It didn’t go smoothly. The target made us, Clint got shot. I was…”

Natasha closes her eyes. She remembers the red blood on Clint’s shirt and the way he had told her to get out, to just run, _run, Nat, leave me, I’ll only slow you down. Get the fucker. Get him for me, Nat._

“I was scared,” Natasha continues. “I wasn’t used to having someone there with me, someone I wasn’t prepared to leave behind. Someone who was willing to give himself up so I could get away, so I could complete the mission. But I didn’t leave him. I realized then that there were more important things than the mission, and more important things than me. I saved Clint. The target got away. Our handler spent the entire trip back shouting at me, while Clint mostly slept, knocked out from the pain meds they put him on.

“When we returned to HQ I thought for sure that was it. They were going to get rid of me. I had already formed my escape plan in my head. And then…” Natasha smiles. “And then Coulson showed up. Clint was so loopy that he nearly fell onto him and Coulson just stood there, holding him up, while he very calmly and precisely reduced that agent nearly to tears and had him demoted for improper handling of his agents and every damned thing you could think of. Then he turned to me and said, ‘Romanoff, please assist me in getting Barton to the medical wing.’ And that was it. He didn’t shout at me - though Fury did, later, let me tell you - and he didn’t tell me they’d made a mistake letting me work for S.H.I.E.L.D. He didn’t even mention what had happened. He just… He accepted my decision, and he accepted me, and no one had ever done that for me before. So… so that’s my favorite memory of Coulson.”

Natasha stops talking, and she feels stupid for having said all that. It was a silly story and she doesn’t know what compelled her to share it, and she -

“Thank you,” Melinda says, and when Natasha turns to her she can see that Melinda is smiling, but her eyes are wet.

“Yeah,” Natasha says, and she puts her hand briefly on Melinda’s knee. “Do you… do you want to grab a drink, after?”

“I’d like that,” Melinda says.

**_End_ **


End file.
